St. Patty's Day Trout'n

 

St. Patty’s Day Trout’n

3/17/2021

 

 I was heading to Central PA. in hopes of hooking into wild rising trout. The weather for the afternoon was suppose to be near 60 degrees and I was hoping of a hatch of some kind that would get some trout to rise.

  It was a foggy drive East on I80 when I left home early Wednesday. When I drove out of the fog the sky was a grayish blue with no distinct cloud outlines. The sky was just like a plane sheet of grayish blue art paper. It was a lot brighter of course out of the fog. My truck thermometer read 35 degrees which was colder then I expected. When I pulled into the parking area, next to the stream, there was only one other car in the lot. It was about 9:30 am and my truck thermometer read 36 degrees. Though it was a bit of a chilly morning I expected at least a couple more vehicles would be parked being that the temps were suppose to rise.

  I took my time getting my gear together and dressing in hopes the temps would rise quickly, at least to 40 degrees. I assembled my Icon rod, put a few cigars in my vest pocket and headed along the riverbank upstream. I saw one other fisherman up a ways so I stepped off the bank and started my St. Patrick’s Day fish’n in a flow of wavy current.

  The cold water was apparent immediately like a first sip of Jameson on the rocks. The water was as clear as a glass of Gunpowder Irish Gin. There was no doubt that if there was a hatch the trout would see any bugs on the surface. The overcast sky didn’t look, or feel, too promising as of yet but maybe with a little Irish day luck the sun might come out.

  I knotted on a little black stonefly and dropped a San Juan below. I like to fish a San Juan especially in fast moving water. I think it grabs the trout attention for a look see. Even if they refuse it there’s a better chance my tag-a-long nymph will be located and maybe grabbed. It didn’t take too long before my drifting combination to be taken in the fast wavy current. The line tightened and a fish pulled away with jarring tugs. It headed up into the strong current and tugged angrily at the nymph flexing the top section of the fly rod. In the current it’s hard to predict how big a hooked wild trout is. It seams they all fight pretty ferociously. He turned down creek, still tugging at the line, and the pressure of the arcing rod began to slow him down. We had quite a tugging match before he finally let up some and I had him coming towards me. Once he got close enough though you would of thought we were as if like poles of two magnets. He repelled when I pulled the rod back, rose some from the depth and skirted away just below the surface. I could see he was a wild brown. I dropped the rod some to ease the tension on the 5x tippet and not wanting the stronger current beyond to have an ill effect on my hook set. He tussled a little more before I got him closer to net. Even so he flopped and flipped around trying to escape my waiting net. He had a light butter stomach and the red freckles, black splotches encircled by silverish halos was a typical colors of a wild brown.  

 If you never experienced battling with a wild trout before you’ll want to fish them more often.

  

 After I released him back into the drink it was time for my first cigar. I pulled out a H. Upmann Nicaraguan, cupped my hand from the slight breeze, and lit it up. The easy draw and smooth tobacco flavor was sure to please my taste buds for awhile. 

 

 I fished as I waded slowly along the banks fishing the mid section of the stream. I came to a section with a slower moving flow behind a short lived riffle. The slower current was between wavy current on each side. After my cast I would high stick over the wavy water before me trying to keep my imitations in the soft spot. My indicator angled upstream and when it dipped I yanked the rod upward to set the hook either in a trouts mouth or a bottom snag. After the line straightened it cut through the surface quickly like an experienced chef, with a sharp blade, slicing celery sticks. The fish took off away towards the far bank and then wildly swam down stream with the current forcefully. It didn’t tug as constant as the previous wild brown but when it did tug it was meaningful. He kept his distance downstream with short bursts of head shakes and pulling away at time. When I angled the rod towards the bank he followed the tight line below me towards the bank also. Near the bank he swiftly swam up along the bank till he got close enough to see me I presumed. I was bringing in line until he saw me but within vision he turn and skirted in a round about arc downstream again like a Frisbee caught in a cross wind. I had to let tensioned line slip through my fingers. He stopped in the oncoming current. I arced the rod upstream and he slowly proceeded to follow. I backed up towards the bank just enough to get away from the faster current before me. With that I raised the rod and had him coming up this side of the seam. He swam past me and I took out my net. Raising the rod he backed up and I was able to scoop him up. He had taken the San Juan Worm. I continued to use the same combination down creek and caught another rainbow on the San Juan.

 

 The sun finally broke through the dull painted sky and I was starting to feel the heat beneath my layers of clothing. I left the stream and went to the truck to discard a layer or two. I was again surprised that my truck was the only vehicle in the lot.

  On my returned I fished down creek from the lot but didn’t have a single hit. It was if my Olive Woolly Bugger wasn’t green enough, so I ventured back upstream. Up creek I went beyond where I caught the rainbows and brown trout and figured I would work my way down creek.

  It took sometime to catch my next trout. Black stoneflies started to appear under the warming sun. Not many but enough that I was hoping more would show up and fish would rise. I switched over to a Picket Pin and a Black Stonefly combination. One drift through the wavy current, almost at the end of the drift, I felt a sudden jerk on the line. I quickly lifted the rod for a hook set and another trout fought viciously in the current. The hook set stayed true and another rainbow laid quietly in the bottom of my net. He had taken to Picket Pin. 

  

 It wasn’t long after that stoneflies were fluttering on the water more often. When I saw my first rise I didn’t hesitate to knot on a dry stonefly. There were three rises within a close distance of each other within my casting range downstream. It could have been the same trout looking up picking off anything within vision or maybe a few trout feeding. I wasn’t sure but I tried for the rise in a slower more open flow of water. With a backhand cast, over my left shoulder, I let the line straighten downstream and quickly stopped my forward motion. This backed up my tippet and the dry fly fell upon the water with plenty of slack to drift drag free. I watched as my small caddis style tied stonefly floated on the surface water towards the feeding zone. The trout quickly rose as if he was afraid my fly would soon free itself from the surface film and take flight. I instinctively lifted the rod up and back and the hook set was true. The smaller brown shook the line and rod tip all the way to the net. My first March dry fly hooked trout was in my net. Not a big brown but one with beautiful wild brown colors. The stonefly hooked squarely in the corner of its mouth. I was as joyful as a Hurling player scoring a three point goal.

 

  While I was tying another stonefly dry on I had a visitor land on my sleeve. I was surprised a bit by the size as I thought they were a bit smaller in length. Even so I knotted on another dry stone like the last.

  Still tempting any trout downstream I continued time after time to get another to rise. It took a bit but another rose up to take my imitation. I was O'Jerry on the spot and hooked another on the dry.

 

 Well I fished for another half hour or so but couldn’t get any trout to rise. The stoneflies had just about petered out anyhow and a breeze picked up in the meantime. The sun was still shining brightly but with the breeze the air was beginning to chill. I fished downstream towards the truck without another strike.

  At the truck I put away my gear and got changed.

 I’m not Irish by any means nor do I celebrate St. Patrick’s Day like the Irish do. I do in fact respect the holiday and wore some green. I had even bought a green wrapped cigar and saved it for this occasion.

  I ate a quick sandwich before leaving the stream. In the truck I lit up the green wrapped 'Swamp Thang', as it is called, and enjoyed the stogie all the way home on the road.

It was a good St. Patty's Day!! 

 ~doubletaper